The Many Nicknames of Peter Quill
by IBrokeThe4thWall
Summary: Peter Quill's favored nickname is Star-Lord, but there are other names that he has gained as his travels with the Guardians of the Galaxy continue. This is a recording of these events.
1. Braid-Lord

**So, I got stuck on my other story and went surfing on YouTube for inspiration. I found a Chris Pratt interview and was inspired to write this. I don't know if it's high quality, but this is what my brain spit out. Please enjoy. **

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**Braid-Lord**

It was official. Peter Quill was completely and undeniably bored. Even though he had his mix tape playing in the background, he didn't feel like dancing or singing along with it. The self proclaimed Star-Lord didn't know what else to do while he and the other Guardians were drifting through space, waiting for their next adventure to cross their path. He looked all around the _Milano's_ cabin to keep his idling mind busy.

Drax sat in one of the chairs cleaning his knives. Rocket tinkered on a weapon of some kind while seated on top of a silver crate. The small sapling that was Groot dug around the soil in his pot on the table. Gamora sat beside the plant man shifting at the news feeds, searching for a new bounty for them to catch or some other worthy mission to partake in.

Peter flexed his fingers as if they had started itching. Everyone was doing something but him since he had put the ship on autopilot. Sure, he could pester Rocket into letting the bored man take part in his tinkering or ask Drax about his knives, but the Terran knew that the cons far outweighed the pros in those situations.

Rocket could just ignore him or try to blow up the entire ship depending on how far Quill pushed, while Drax . . . would probably go so in depth about his knives and how they should be properly used to slice men's heads clear from their shoulders that Peter would have nightmares for the rest of his existence. So, no, he would not be asking either of them for any form of entertainment. _Ever_.

Deciding that maybe a snack would alleviate his boredom, Peter trekked to the back of the _Milano_. After nabbing a granola bar from the cabinet, the man turned to Gamora to ask if she had found any jobs for them yet when he noticed something he never noticed before.

The assassin had beautiful hair!

Blame it on his bored and idling mind, but Peter Quill couldn't stop from staring at the green woman's hair. Silky ebony locks ending in red curls with just the right amount of volume and oh so shiny. This hair would have been just as alluring on a man as it was on Gamora. But he would have to be an exceptionally pretty man in Quill's book.

You know what? Scratch that, tear out the page, and burn the paper. No one could wear Gamora's hair better than Gamora. Those locks made Quill's fingers itch all over. He remembered the way she looked in prison with that messy braid. What would it have looked like if it was neat?

With that thought driving his actions, Star-Lord found himself running his fingers through the assassin's hair, finally ridding himself of the itching feeling that had been bothering him as he began to section out her jet black and crimson locks. How long do you think that lasted?

Not two seconds later, Peter found himself knocked to the ground with a knee crushing his windpipe. Rocket had started laughing uproariously in the background, and the man just knew that Drax was giving his general direction a confused look. Quickly glancing upward, Quill found Groot watching him curiously and a serious-faced Gamora glaring down at him.

_Maybe I should have asked Drax about his knives,_ the Terran thought dully. _Nightmare gore isn't that hard to handle._

"What were you doing?" Gamora demanded.

"Trying to braid your hair," the man choked out. Honestly, it came more as a question than a statement as Peter tried to ease her leg off of his throat.

"Why?" The assassin did not budge.

"Because Rocket's isn't long enough."

Rocket, in response to this statement, stopped laughing and indignantly shouted, "Don't even try it, pal!"

"I'm just kidding, Rocket," Peter smirked. "I got a little bored, not suicidal."

Gamora merely raised an eyebrow before standing up from Peter's windpipe. She returned to her seat as the Terran rubbed his throat.

"And you believed that touching an assassin's hair with no forewarning wasn't suicidal?" Drax questioned.

Quill blinked. _Well, when you put it _that_ way . . ._

"It doesn't matter now," Gamora stated without removing her gaze from the news feed. "What's done is done. If you want to braid my hair, go ahead."

Peter, Drax, Groot, _and_ Rocket simultaneously turned their gazes towards the green woman. Surprise and confusion shone in their eyes.

"What?" Gamora demanded when she realized they were all looking at her. "It gets in my way when I fight sometimes. And the missions that I'm looking at for us require fighting no matter what plan we may put in place."

Only with the slightest bit of hesitation, Peter rose to his feet and once again ran his fingers through her black and red locks. It was silky and smooth, and Star-Lord quickly lost himself in sectioning and braiding it all together. It was such entrancing and methodical work that he hardly noticed that he had garnered the other Guardians' undivided attention.

"I am Groot?" Groot questioned while pointing at the Terran's hands.

At Quill's puzzled look, Rocket rolled his eyes and translated, "He wants to know where you learned to braid hair." The raccoon-like alien let out a snort before commenting, "I want to know how you got away with it with the Ravagers."

"I second Groot and Rocket's curiosity," Drax stated without removing his eyes from the sure movements of the other man's hands.

Peter paused in his braiding and softly said, "My grandpa taught me how to braid my mother's hair before she got cancer. I was pretty good at it, I guess."

It wasn't easy for Quill to talk about his former life on earth, and he doubted that it would ever get easier. Gamora, Drax, Rocket, and Groot knew this. He tried to tell them what was hard for him to say anyway. It helped with team contiguity or some crap like that.

To liven up the now dampened mood, the Terran smirked and drawled out, "As for keeping up with my skills, do you remember that A'askvariian I told you about?"

Gamora groaned. Rocket barked out laughter along with Drax. Groot, however, looked confused. Sorry, Groot. Ya snooze and miss an attempted prison murder; ya lose the humor in this reference.

"Yeah, she wouldn't let go of me, so I kinda tricked her into letting me braid her tentacles," Peter gained a thoughtful look on his face as he flopped a section of hair in his hands. "I think she liked it, which is both cool and disturbing."

"What's disturbing is this conversation," Gamora countered, slightly turning her head towards the man messing with her hair.

"Oh, alright," Quill sighed in teasing exasperation as he continued with her braid. "Did you see any jobs for us?"

"There are two escapees from a high security prison terrorizing a colony in an asteroid belt," the assassin stated. "Are you nearly done?"

"Almost," Peter sighed as he saw that the sections between his fingers were getting shorter and shorter. "Do you have a hair band?"

"No, the one I had was actually burned up in the battle with Ronan."

"That figures," Rocket commented.

"Why don't you just tie it in a knot?" Drax questioned.

"Because that will break her hair," Peter stated simply. If there was one thing that Star-Lord knew about women it was that it didn't matter what species they were, one did _not_ mess with a woman's hair and escape unscathed. Evidently, Drax understood this unspoken reasoning and nodded. Maybe it was because he had a wife and daughter and they were the same way.

"I am Groot," Groot said. In his twig like arms was a small vine dotted with tiny white flowers. He was holding it out to Peter. He had grown it without any of them noticing.

"He's saying to see if his vine will work," Rocket explained with a little surprise. He shook his head with a small laugh. "The first thing he grows since he was put in that pot, and he makes a vine to hold back Gamora's hair."

Peter took the small thin vine with great care. It _was_ the first thing that Groot had grown since being reduced to the size of a twig, and the Terran didn't want to hurt the Flora Colossus's feelings by messing it up.

"Thank you, Groot," he said with a sincere smile. "It's perfect."

Groot nodded with a smile. Quill held one end of the vine in place with his thumb at the end of Gamora's braid and deftly wrapped three loops around, tying the ends together in a firm knot. He made a small humming noise as he straightened up the braid and adjusted the improvised hair-band before stepping away with a smile.

"And done," Peter stated with a nod. "Go check it out."

Pulling a two blades from their sheaths, Gamora held one in front of her face while she whipped the other behind her head, nearly taking Star-Lord's nose clear off in the process. Peter didn't take it personally. But that didn't stop him from backing off while she inspected her new braid.

It began at the top of the back of her head, sections being added as it descended to the bottom, and ended with a black and red ropelike ponytail. The braid was much neater than what she could do to herself.

"What kind of braid is it?" Gamora asked as she scrutinized Quill's work.

"French braid," the Terran stated.

"I can't believe it," Rocket muttered.

"Can't believe what?" Peter asked.

"That you would have made a better beautician than a Ravager," the raccoon-like alien laughed out.

Peter seemed to wilt at that before giving a smirk and saying, "I never told you how I got away with my braiding skills with the Ravagers."

"And," Rocket snorted through his laughter, "and how is that?"

"Some of them had longer hair and would have me braid it for two reasons," Peter extended two fingers. "One, it got in the way when they fought, but they didn't want to cut it off. Two, it made a great whip."

That cut off Rocket's laughter right quick. Gamora had a considering countenance as she took a second glance at her new braid.

"So who wants to catch some prisoners?"

And so, even as the Guardians of the Galaxy kicked the dangerous prisoners' butts and had them returned to jail, Gamora's French braid stayed pristine; and Peter Quill had the new name Braid-Lord added to his list of nicknames.

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**In all honesty Drax was rather difficult for me to write, so he played a minor role. Tell me what you thought and what could be improved upon. I shall hear what you have to say and attempt to fix my flaws accordingly. Also, there will be more chapter's added, but this story will be marked as complete because it's basically just a bunch of one-shots.**


	2. Dance-Lord

**Hey, everybody! I honestly meant to post something by Christmas, but then Christmas turned into the New Year, and I'm lazy. I'm going to try to update Growing Up: Terror Twins by next weekend. And if I don't, would you really be surprised. I'm not promising anything. Okay, so this chapter is really short, but I thought it was funny. Tell me what you think.**

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**Dance-Lord**

It was no secret that Peter loved to dance. It was no secret that Peter loved to dance mainly to his two favorite mix tapes. And it was certainly no secret that Peter danced to his mix tapes whether or not the other members of his team were on the _Milano_ with him. What _was_ a secret was _how_ Peter danced when no one else was on the _Milano_ with him.

One day while making a pit stop on Xandar, Peter volunteered to stay on the ship while the others gathered supplies. It was routine run and wouldn't take long to finish; and since Groot had grown to be the size of a toddler, Rocket had decided to take the Flora Colossus with him to get more materials to fix the ship and build weaponry. This left the half-Terran to guard the ship all by his lonesome. But Peter knew just _what_ he was going to do with his alone time. Smirking, Peter hummed 'Hooked on a Feeling' softly as he went below deck to start up his tape player.

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The sound of piano chords being tapped out to a cheering crowd emanated from the speakers. Before another set of chords was played, Peter slid across the hall in nothing but his Ravager jacket and his briefs, holding a metal rod in his right hand. Then drums added the beat, Peter kicked out his leg and sang along with the song as he danced around the room.

_Just take those old records off the shelf;_

_I'll sit and listen to 'em by myself._

_Today's music ain't got the same soul._

_I like that old time rock 'n roll!_

He strut around the crates and boxes in the _Milano's_ hull, grabbing onto two parallel beams and shaking his hips to the beat before pushing off.

_Don't try and take me to a disco;_

_You'll never even get me out on the floor!_

_In ten minutes, I'll be late to the door!_

_I like that old time rock 'n roll!_

He jumped onto one of the crates and started using the metal rod as an electric guitar. He held it just above his swaying pelvis and fell to his knees while singing into the top like a microphone.

_Still like that old time rock 'n roll!_

_That kind of music just soothes my soul._

_I reminisce about the days of old_

_With that old time rock 'n roll. _

Peter was really getting into the swing of the music by this point. He threw the metal rod to the side and added more personality to his freestyle moves. Sure, he looked like he was having a seizure, but he was having even more fun because of how silly he must look. He wiggled his hips and popped his coat's collar. Peter Quill could dance like this forever if he had the choice! Jumping around and acting like he was the only person in the world as he mimicked the music with air guitar motions.

Unfortunately after half an hour of dancing and spastically jerking about, Star-Lord was no longer the only person on the _Milano_! A choking sound brought the human back to reality.

Looking up, Peter saw Drax, Gamora, Rocket, and Groot gapping at him. Well, Drax, Gamora, and Rocket were gapping; the raccoon-looking being was trying to keep the small Flora Colossus from seeing the captain in his underwear, but Groot's struggling to uncover his eyes was not helping Rocket's noble endeavor.

"Guys," Peter tried to cheer after clearing his throat. "I . . . uh . . . what's up?"

"Why are you not wearing pants?" Drax asked. "This is indecent."

Peter blinked. Did the bare-chested muscle man _really_ just bring up modesty as the first issue?

He didn't want to explain how he got the idea from a movie. His laid-back grandfather didn't want him to see it, so Quill had sneaked over to a friend's house to go to the theater with him and his friend's older brother. Peter deflected Drax's question with one of his own.

"Why are you guys back so early?"

"I am Groot," Groot stated while still trying to shove Rocket's paw-hands away from his eyes.

"Not happening, idiot," Rocket snorted to the plant-child, though not maliciously, before saying to Quill, "We landed in a 'No Docking Zone'. Nova Corps has been trying to get you to move the ship for half an hour before calling us individually." He muttered lowly, "Now we know why they couldn't reach you, eh, Dance-Lord?"

Gamora didn't say anything. She merely stopped the radio, threw pants at Star-Lord's head, and went up to the deck to move the _Milano_.

"Do you dance like this _every_ time you are alone?" Drax asked.

"Yep, pretty much," Quill quickly replied as he put on his pants. "Terra, Ravager ship, _Milano_, you name it. If I'm alone, I'm dancing in my underpants."

No one ever brought up the incident again, but Peter added 'Dance-Lord' to his ever-growing nickname repertoire.

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**So I've never seen Risky Business, but I did read the Wikipedia plot summary. I kinda figured that Grandpa Quill wouldn't be too keen on letting eight year-old Peter see this movie. What do you guys think? How can I improve?**


	3. Grapple-Lord

**This chapter was inspired by the Guardians of the Galaxy interview when Chris stated that he sent a 'drunk' text to Dave, calling him out to a wrestling match. . . . Already, you should know what's going to happen; but I hope that you will read the story anyway. Enjoy!**

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**Grapple-Lord**

The Guardians of the Galaxy were on Knowhere, yet again, getting cratered at the bar nearest to their docked ship. Well, Peter and Drax were getting cratered. Rocket, Groot, and Gamora were gathering materials to repair the _Milano _from the damage caused by their latest adventure. The ship had been wrecked on their bounty, and Peter felt horrible over what could have happened to his team.

So here he was, with his muscle-builder friend by his side, drowning his emotions away with weird orange alcohol. Quill didn't know what kind of drink it was; only that it made the bad feelings go away and gave him a buzz. He was on his sixth round when looked over at Drax and gave the tattooed man the most sincere smile that only a drunk person could form.

"Draz," Peter slurred. "Draz, ya gotta try 'is stuff! It tas' so goo'!"

"No," Drax replied firmly.

"Bu' why not?" the half-Terran whined. "I'sh _really_ goo'."

Drax sighed and pat his leader on the back, saying, "I have decided that I will not drink more than three servings of these liquids. The last time I was intoxicated did not end well for anyone."

Star-Lord drained his glass before leaning into Drax and mumbling, "Yur a freakin' goo' frien', ya know tha'? Yur alwaysh lookin' out for ush, 'cept for tha' one time when ya called Ronan ta try 'n' kill 'im bu' got me and Morry caugh' by Ravagers instead; bu' I forgived ya for tha' already. I'm sho proud 'f ya fer tryin' ta s've ush 'n' def'den the galaxy." The last word was punctuated with hiccup.

"I believe these ramblings mean that you have had enough to drink for one evening," the tattooed man stated as he maneuvered himself and his thoroughly drunken friend away from the counter. "It is time to return to the _Milano_."

Peter, who had been giggling and smiling at a couple of pink women at the other side of the bar, gave Drax a petulant frown. He didn't want to leave yet. He didn't want to be reminded of what almost happened to Gamora, Rocket, Groot, Drax, and himself. He wanted to forget how he almost broke his promise to Dey, how he kept failing his family!

"I don' wanna go," Peter mumbled, leaning most, if not all, of his weight on the muscular man dragging him away from the alcohol that made him feel numb in both body and mind.

"We need to get back to the ship, Quill," Drax grunted.

"I don' wanna go," Star-Lord reiterated grumpily as the pink women started to walk off with two random guys. "There're girls I nee' ta meet."

"It needs to be done," the Destroyer returned while hefting his captain over his shoulder like he was a ragdoll, carrying him out of the bar and into the muggy atmosphere of Knowhere's streets. "You need to sleep your inebriation away and deal with your hangover accordingly; I do not believe that lying with strange women will be beneficial to you at the moment."

"I nee' ta do _somethin'_," Peter complained from over Drax's shoulder. "I don' wanna go back yet."

Drax understood Star-Lord's reluctance to return to his beaten up ship; their latest bounty had taken a toll on all of them. He stopped by a wall long enough to prop his load against it and asked, "Then what would you like to do that does not involve drinking more alcohol or lying with strange women?"

Peter's head lulled from side to side as the man's inebriated mind tried to come up with an activity he and Drax could do together. Drax said no more booze and no 'lying with strange women,' whatever that meant. What did that leave him with? Drax was big and muscle-y. What could he do with a big muscle-y person? Um . . .

"Wanna wrestle?" Star-Lord suggested drunkenly.

Drax stared at the half-Terran blankly before asking, "You wish to wrestle with me while you're intoxicated?"

"No 'ne hash t' know," Quill shrugged listlessly, nearly tumbling to the ground with his movement. What was in that orange drink?

The tattooed man sighed before leading his captain off to an alleyway not too far from the _Milano_. There was no reason to tire out Star-Lord where everyone could see. After casting a cursory glance around to make sure the alley didn't have any garbage that would potentially cause infection would it to cut into their skin, Drax faced Peter and took up a fighting stance.

"Are you prepared, Quill?" Drax asked his tipsy commander.

"C'me a' meh, bro," Peter goaded before opting to rush the Destroyer anyway.

The half-Terran wrapped both of his arms around Drax's middle and pushed with all of his might. Quill grunted and yanked his body side to side, trying to overthrow the Destroyer's balanced stance; but the tattooed man didn't budge an inch or even act like his drunken opponent was even there. Instead, Drax grabbed the back of Star-Lord's coat and flung him over his bare shoulder to the open space behind him.

The half-Terran lay on his back with a dazed expression on his face. He roughly shook his heavy-feeling head before jumping to his feet, once again charging with an uncoordinated gait straight at Drax. Peter repeated his efforts to push the Destroyer over. The muscular tattooed man sighed at Peter's efforts to knock him down. The things Drax did for his friends.

When it appeared that Quill was winding down on his assault, Drax simply pushed the man back and waited for him to charge again. Peter ran up to the tattooed man for the third time only to wrap both of his hands around a gray wrist, yanking the arm it was connected to over his shoulder. Star-Lord was trying to throw Drax over his back. Isn't that cute?

Drax chuckled as he dropped to one leg and wrapped his captured arm around Peter's waist. He swiftly hefted Star-Lord off the ground, his head dangling beside the ever-present daggers on Drax's waist. The tattooed man was careful not to hurt his friend and merely subdue him. He wanted to get them both home in one piece and not face Gamora's wrath over a battered half-Terran. With that in mind, he needed to end this 'match' sooner rather than later.

"Do you concede?" the tattooed man inquired.

"Never!" Peter crowed, pushing up on Drax's arm and flailing his legs to slip out of the Destroyer's grip.

His friend's struggling forced Drax to brace the half-Terran with his other hand. Unfortunately for Quill, Drax was drunk as well even though he had drunk less than his captive did. While the gray man had tried to keep Peter from falling, he was just tipsy enough to lose his grip and drop the half-Terran right on his head.

*break*

It was official. A person _could_ have a headache on top of a headache. How was this fact proven, you ask? Star-Lord lay on his bunk in the _Milano_, hands cupped over his face and mouth drawn back in a grimace. Not only did his brain hurt from his hangover, but the top his head was also too pained to put on his pillow.

"What happened last night?" Peter whispered softly. He groaned when even his barely audible question hurt his ears.

"You were inebriated to the point of rambling, so I brought you home," Drax responded from the bunk on the other side of the room.

"Why'd you hit me on the head?" Peter whined.

"I did not hit you," Drax denied. "I dropped you on your head."

"_Why?_" Quill emphasized.

Drax got off of his bunk and made his way over to the suffering half-Terran. Even though he couldn't see the other's face, Peter had the distinct impression that the tattoo-riddled man was smirking at him.

"It would be wise for you to remember to not wrestle with me, Grapple-Lord," the Destroyer replied, patting his leader on the arm. "I am stronger than you can handle, drunk or sober."

As Drax left the room, Peter's eyes widened with shock. The surprise didn't come from him trying to wrestle the man while they were drunk or from the fact that he was dropped on his head. He was stunned that Drax the Destroyer, the most literal man in the galaxy, had given him a metaphor-like nickname.

'Grapple-Lord' lay on his bunk, slowly getting over his hangover and pondering what other nicknames Drax could think of that the half-Terran could add to his list.

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**Tell me what you think and how I can improve, and drop in suggestions on what you would like to be Star-Lord's newest nickname. All suggestions must be based on interviews or films Chris Pratt has taken part in. Thank you for your time and opinions (whether or not you post them or if I like them).**


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